Page 14 of Bewitched Before Christmas
She freed her arms and then peered under the duvet. “You took my clothes off.”
“Not all of them.” That could be remedied. Then he couldn’t believe he had thought that. He’d already decided she was going far, far away. As soon as possible. He handed her the glass and she looked at it suspiciously.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Possibly. But you need to drink—replace fluids. And eat.” He got up and got the plate of food from the table, placed it on her lap. “Eat. Drink.”
She scowled. “I wondered how long it would be until you started giving orders again.” But she took a sip of wine. Then a nibble of chicken.
He prowled around the room. Searching for anything familiar. Then into the hall and to the back door. Opening it, he stared out into the darkness. Then took a step, unable to stop himself. Down the dark, shadowy path, just out of sight of the cottage, he found the place.
He and Gabe had dug the graves. At the time they’d had nothing to mark the site. But now someone had built a fancy fence around the small plot, and stones had been placed at the head of the five graves. Shrouded in snow, but he pushed through the small gate and ran his fingers along the engraved names, picturing each one in his mind.
Who had done this?
There had been no one left.
He turned away and headed back to the cottage. The plate was empty and so was the bottle. Some of the color had returned to her face. Clearly, she had a resilience that was more than human. And was quite capable of protecting herself. And him. Despite her lack of stature.
Suddenly, he was curious as to what she was. Witches had always kept to themselves, been cloaked in secrecy. He went into the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine, came back, and poured them both a glass. Picking up the cat, he moved it to the floor and sat down.
“What are you?” he asked.
“I’m a witch.”
“And what is a witch?”
“We’re the daughters of the Morrigan. The Goddess of war and pestilence.”
“Your mother was a goddess?” Of war and pestilence? That didn’t sound good.
She sniffed. “Still is somewhere. She dumped me on my sisters when I was only a few days old, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Your father?”
“No clue. I didn’t exactly have a birth certificate.” She sounded a little bitter.
“So what do witches do?”
She sniffed again. “Well,Idon’t do a lot. I told you we’re not allowed to use magic until we are trained, and we aren’t trained until we’re twenty-one. But after that, I’ll be able to do lots.” She smiled. “Witches guide the souls of the dead from this world to the Shadowlands and then beyond. We also have the power to open other gates. We could open the gates to Hell if we wanted to.”
A shiver ran through him at her words. “Anything else?”
“We have power over the sun and moon. We can extinguish the light and turn the world to darkness forever.”
A deep sense of foreboding washed through him at her words. She was telling the truth—he could hear it in her voice—and the idea of so much power made the muscles of his stomach clench. But then he’d seen the evidence of what she could do. “And stop the world?” he asked.
She took a huge swig of wine, looked away and then back. “Maybe. But that should not have happened.” Another swig. “I’ll think about it later. Soon—when I’m stronger. Just not quite yet.” She emptied her glass. “I also have visions.”
“Visions?”
“Sometimes of the past, mostly of the future. And they always come true.” She gave him a dark look. “Well, up to now. That’s changing though, because some visions are not meant to be.”
“And can you use these visions and tell us what’s going to happen?” Like would the world start up again.
“Unfortunately not. They just come…” She blinked. “Speaking of which…” Her eyes fluttered closed, and the glass crashed to the floor.
Lachlan jumped to his feet and was beside her in a moment. He grabbed her hand…
